


Lips Like Licorice

by twinkjack



Category: All Time Low
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 00:52:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11280312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twinkjack/pseuds/twinkjack
Summary: In which Alex likes Twizzlers and kissing Rian.





	Lips Like Licorice

“I’m getting Rian on the train. The Twizzler train.”

They’re sharing a Twizzler, Lady-and-the-Tramp style, biting down until their lips are mere inches apart. Alex’s eyes are on his phone, recording, hyperaware of how close Rian is to him.

“C’mere,” Rian mumbles, muffled through a mouthful of Twizzler.

“Nope, it’s not gonna happen.”

“Please, just once—“

“Nope, not gonna happen.”

Rian makes a kissy noise with his lips and at that point Alex has to stop recording, pulling away to laugh.

“You’re awful,” Rian teases him. “The fans will hate you.”

“What’s up?” Alex grins back at him, “They already do. Besides, it can’t be worse than when you posted that picture of us almost kissing a few months ago.”

Right, _that_ picture… where Alex’s lips are puckered, and they’re so close to each other that if Rian were to do the same, they’d be quite honestly kissing. It had caused a bit of an uproar when it was posted… not as bad as if it had been Jack instead of Rian, but there had been considerable— drama? Could you call it that?

Alex is always pulling shit like this, kissing or almost-kissing guys both in his band and out of it. Just Google it— there’s so much evidence it’ll make your head spin. And Alex doesn’t bother denying it, either… the boy was born an exhibitionist, and he’ll take that to his grave. He loves the reactions he gets from it, or maybe he just likes kissing guys. No one knows what goes on inside his head.

The truth is, the reason why he’s always hanging around Rian, flirting him to death and filming shit like this— it’s not for attention. That’s only a bonus. He really, actually, likes being around Rian, and while he can’t really call it a crush, it’s somewhere close.

“You wanna post it?” Rian asks, motioning at Alex’s phone, where the video is looping silently. “We’ve got more shit to do.”

“Right,” Alex mumbles, and hits the volume button, watching it once with the sound on. Their voices come through the speaker, and the sound of Rian making kissy noises is the last sound of the video. In his chest, Alex’s heart jolts and does a flip that a gymnast would be impressed by. Before he has to sit through the video again, he posts it. _This one’s for you, fans_ , he thinks. It’s just fan-service.

That’s what Rian’s probably assuming, anyway. He knows Alex loves doing stuff for attention. For his fans.

 _God_ … Alex wishes he could fucking _tell_ him, just fucking _admit it_ — but how do you go about doing that? “Hey, Rian, you know how I always kiss you and pretend to kiss you in videos? Right, well, I actually want to make out with you and I’m _really_ okay with you maybe fucking me if that’s alright—”

He can’t help it, okay? So he’s had a ~~giant~~ crush on one of his best friends for over ten years now. It’s fine, right?

“Come on,” Rian motions for him now, “We’ve got another interview to do. Hey, Alex, you good?”

“Great,” Alex responds immediately, taking a deep breath, trying to still his pounding heart. _God_ , what he would give for Rian to push him against a wall right now and… um, let’s move on. “Interviews. Right. Let’s… let’s do that.”

Rian gives him a strange look but doesn’t question him. And maybe that’s, you know, for the best.

-

He buys a pack of Twizzlers today.

They’re sitting in the van when Brian pulls into a Wawa, motioning for the boys to get out while he fills the van up with gas. Alex grabs his wallet and dashes inside, running for the candy aisle.

“What’s the rush?” Rian asks, catching up with him. Alex stares at the candy, trying to find what he’s looking for. “Twizzlers? Are we gonna recreate yesterday or something?”

Alex laughs, almost weakly. How does Rian guess everything so easily? “What, did you like it?”

“Obviously. We gotta finish it this time, though. You owe me a kiss.” Rian grins at him and takes a Hershey bar from the rack, heading over to pick out an energy drink.

Knees weak, Alex leans against the candy rack and gives himself a moment to calm down.

The thing is, in this band, you never know if they’re joking or serious. And Alex doesn’t want to make a fool of himself by assuming anything… but he _really_ , _really_ hopes Rian was serious.

“Alex? Got what you need?”

Alex straightens up and looks at Rian, who’s holding his Hershey bar and Rockstar (they _are_ ATL’s sponsors, after all), looking confused.

“Um, yeah,” Alex mumbles, holding up the bag of Twizzlers. His face warms and he knows he’s probably blushing. Jesus, it’s _just_ Twizzlers… it’s _just_ Rian. “Let’s, uh, let’s go.”

Rian quirks an eyebrow at him but follows him to the cash register anyway.

Alex’s hands shake when he pulls his money out, keeping his head down while he pays. Rian’s leaning on his shoulder, telling him something, not that Alex can quite focus on what the boy’s saying.

“Sorry if this is, weird, or something,” says the cashier, and Alex’s head snaps up, “But you two are such a cute couple.”

Instantly, Alex’s cheeks flame red, and he stammers out something about them being “just friends,” while Rian pulls away and laughs.

“Well,” the cashier smiles, “You’d make a cute couple, then.” She coughs awkwardly and blushes too, handing Alex his change. “Sorry if that was too forward.”

“I— you’re fine,” he mumbles, his face hot, fumbling for his coins, stuffing them into his wallet. If that’s not awkward enough, he barely remembers to even grab his candy afterwards. “Rian, I’ll, uh, see you on the bus—“

“No, wait with me,” Rian says, and Alex’s heart melts and he stops. Of course he’ll wait with Rian, how could he ever say no? And maybe that’s why the cashier is looking at them with that funny smile on her face.

Rian’s better at paying and acting non-flustered.

Acting?

“I can’t believe she thought we were dating,” Alex says when they leave.

Rian grins. “I can.”

“What?”

“Oh, c’mon, everyone can tell you’re in love with me.” Rian shoves him playfully and heads off to the van.

Can they?

-

He eats a Twizzler on the bus and tries not to stare at Rian.

Half of him is stupidly hoping the smell of the Twizzler will summon the drummer and they’ll finish what they started earlier, Lady-and-the-Tramp their way into a proper kiss.

Yeah, Alex laughs at himself for that one.

Rian does come over though, and he does steal a Twizzler from Alex, and the older boy feels his knees go weak even though he’s sitting down.

“A cashier thought we were dating today,” Rian says to the rest of the bus, and Alex wonders if he can sink into the couch.

After a moment of trying, he comes to the conclusion that he can’t.

That’s a fucking shame.

“You’re kidding,” says Jack, and Alex agrees silently.

“Nah,” Rian says.

Alex concentrates on eating his Twizzler and praying to Mark Hoppus for Rian to shut up.

Spoiler alert: it doesn’t work.

-

The concert’s over and the crowds have cleared. They’ve got a hotel night tonight.

Alex is outside, tucked up on a bench with his Twizzlers, not even eating them really, just playing with the packaging and— not _sulking_ , but something pretty close.

“Seriously, what is it with you and Twizzlers?” Rian asks.

“Huh?”

Rian steals one from him and puts the end in his mouth for a moment. Not even biting it, just… sucking on it. Like he’s trying to drive Alex crazy. “Every time I see you, you’ve got them.”

Alex shrugs. “They’re good.”

And Rian quirks one eyebrow like he doesn’t really believe that’s the only reason, but sure, they can _pretend_ it is, cause Rian’s good at pretending, and so’s Alex, y’know? They’ve got that down.

The truth is, Alex doesn’t care for Twizzlers. He doesn’t. They’re as mediocre a candy as they come. But if it gets Rian to kiss him, well. That’s a different question altogether.

“Lady and the Tramp,” Rian says suddenly.

Alex looks at him.

“That’s what we were doing. The Twizzler? Lady and the Tramp style.”

“Yeah,” Alex says.

“Yeah.” Rian bites off the Twizzler and chews it thoughtfully. “Shame you pussied out.”

“I didn’t—“

Rian gives him a _look_ , and one thing you should know about Rian is he’s got a myriad of _looks_ that he’s perfected over the years, and this one clearly means ‘Alex, quit your bullshit.’

Alex quits his bullshit. “Imagine if we’d gotten that on camera.”

“Has to happen first,” Rian says.

Alex asks if it’s going to, quirking one eyebrow (and he’s better at that than Rian, surprisingly), and Rian just shrugs with that mysterious smile of his that _doesn’t_ have a clear meaning.

Frustrated, Alex decides that future him is going to be _really_ mad if he doesn’t go for this clear opportunity that’s presented itself. “I think,” he says, “I think we should try.”

“Pocky game?” Rian teases.

Alex smacks his arm. “What are we, teenagers?”

From their giggly kind of flirting, Rian is almost inclined to say yes. “But, you know, why not.”

Why not.

Alex grabs the other end of the Twizzler already in Rian’s mouth, and places it between his lips. Their eyes meet, and Alex can’t stifle his not-quite-giggle.

“Shut up,” Rian mumbles around a mouthful of Twizzler, and takes a bite, moving closer.

Alex does the same.

He’s not going to pussy out, not when he’s been waiting for years. Right, fucking _years_ , of half-hearted pretend kisses that never mean anything— not tonight, no, there’s _something_ … something he thinks they both can feel.

Closer. The tension contained in that tiny space, Alex-Twizzler-Rian, is palpable.

Rian takes the last bite, then, and Alex is grateful it’s not him that had to. One moment it’s the wind that Alex feels on his lips, and then he blinks and it’s Rian’s mouth, warm and a little dry. It’s not a proper kiss, it’s just two mouths touching.

But—

They don’t pull away.

Surprisingly, neither of them pull away.

And then it becomes a kiss. Alex shifts his jaw and _kisses_ Rian, one hand moving up to cup his jaw, stroke the beard that’s starting to form.

Then his head is starting to spin because that’s _Rian_ , kissing him back, bringing him closer by the front of his shirt— the front of his shirt!

The thing about kissing boys is it’s different than girls. There’s the beard, for one thing. There’s the lips that lack the weird taste of lipstick or chapstick, wet from spit instead. There’s the short hair, harder to curl your hands in, although Alex figures it’s easier on Rian’s end. Damn, he needs a haircut.

Then they pull away, almost in unison, and for a moment, neither boy says anything. Alex is terrified he’s done the wrong thing, misinterpreted Rian’s signals somehow. Maybe Rian never wanted to kiss him— maybe he’s been joking this whole time— but why would he kiss back?

Rian’s lips pull into a smile. “Hey, Alex. Fancy another Twizzler?”

-

The second time it happens, it’s because of Twizzlers again.

They’ve just come off stage after a particularly exhausting show, just two nights after the first kiss. Rian disappears for a moment, and Alex doesn’t really pay attention until the boy’s return.

He leans against the wall, holding up a package of Twizzlers, not even bothering to hide the smirk on his face. “Gaskarth,” he calls, and Alex’s head shoots up instantly. “Up for a little game?”

None of the other boys understand why Alex’s knees wobble and why he runs off after Rian so quickly.

The game ends with Alex pressed against the wall of the first bathroom they find, Twizzler taste lingering in his mouth, Rian’s lips pressing kisses to his. There’s less hesitation this time, less joking around.

It almost feels like it could be real, if only for a bit.

-

He keeps buying Twizzlers.

It’s their excuse.

They’re not actual kisses, they’re just… mistakes. It’s the result of the Pocky game (but, you know, Twizzlers instead of Pocky). They’re not kisses. They don’t mean anything.

Maybe Lisa will believe that, if he tells her.

Not that he’ll tell her.

In fact, he barely thinks of her. Lonely nights jacking off in his bunk turn into make-out sessions in the back of the bus, laughing as they try to rip open the Twizzler package as quietly as possible so that Brian won’t hear.

This is the tour that Alex grows familiar with the taste of Rian’s lips, the feel of his mouth on Alex’s, the sensation of a beard scratching against his face and the difficulty of trying to tangle your fingers in short hair.

This is the tour he doesn’t take any girls home and barely pays attention to the cute ones at the meet and greets.

This is the tour he decides that, okay, maybe he isn’t as straight as he’s been telling himself, but that’s beside the point currently.

This is the tour that Jack has to sit him down and go, “Dude, did you smuggle Lisa in or something? Cause you haven’t looked at a girl in like, a week, and I’m almost getting worried,” to which Alex just laughs and shrugs and says he hasn’t felt the need to.

Cause he hasn’t.

It’s just the truth, it’s not like he’s lying, he literally hasn’t thought about a girl because— it’s Rian. It’s all Rian.

-

It strikes him at one point that he has a wife, and Rian has a fiancée, and neither of them are stupid enough to fall for the “it’s just a game” excuse.

In fact, they wouldn’t even stop to consider it. You can’t fool Cassadee with Twizzlers.

Lisa, maybe.

The thought barely bothers him. He doesn’t even bring it up to Rian.

Even though he should.

They should, like smart people, sit down and discuss what the hell they’re doing.

Instead, they keep spending money on fucking Twizzlers.

To the point where Alex almost gets worried that fans are going to start throwing Twizzlers on stage. Because, you know, they would. Fans are like that.

Actually, he wouldn’t mind if they did.

Huh. Maybe he’ll Snapchat something about it.

Would cut down on how much fucking money he’s spending on the damn things.

-

It’s somewhere in Michigan that he stops Rian for the first time.

There’s a few hours left until soundcheck, and they’re in a bathroom somewhere.

Rian’s got his lips attached to Alex’s neck, and that’s when it hits Alex.

He pushes Rian off, away, stumbles back a step. Rian stares at him, eyebrows quirked. The look he’s giving him is screaming, _did I do something_?

“A mark,” Alex explains. “You’re gonna leave a mark.”

“Oh.” Rian pauses. “Just bring back your scarves.”

Alex scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

“The fans would love it.”

There’s a lot of things the fans would love, Alex tells him, and you know it, Rian.

“That’s true.” Rian twists his lips slightly, thinking, and Alex can’t help but notice how cute he looks like that— and yeah, okay, maybe Rian looks cute all the time, but right now it’s more special. To the point where he has to take a moment, lean back, and like, appreciate him.

“So,” says Alex, and hesitates.

“So,” echoes Rian.

“We need to—”

“Talk about it,” Rian finishes.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

They stare at each other, in the close quarters of the bathroom. Seriously, where the hell are they?

“We’re making out with each other,” Rian starts. Alex nods along. “We both have girlfriends. Or, uh, wives.” More nodding. “Who don’t know what’s going on.” Alex makes a noise of agreement. “And… they are… not going to?”

A pause, then a slightly quieter sound of agreement.

“Well, that’s settled,” Rian says, sounding unsure.

Alex says, “Yeah,” not entirely convinced either.

Then Rian kisses him again, and Alex decides that maybe all that doesn’t really matter, because Rian has a way of moving his mouth against Alex’s that makes all thought vanish from his brain.

Priorities.

-

At one point they don’t need Twizzlers anymore.

It happens after the Philadelphia show. The first one. That means they have a hotel night, and that means Alex and Rian are sharing a room. They’re sneaky like that.

Alex thinks that if Flyzik were still with them, he’d be pitching a fit right now. It’s been four years since he left, though, so he doesn’t. Maybe he left because he knew shit like this would end up happening.

No sex on the bus. His fucking catchphrase.

Luckily, they’re not on a bus tonight.

Maybe it’s the alcohol they drank— there had been tequila on stage for whatever reason, and all of them had a soft spot for that type of liquor in particular— or maybe it’s the excitement of having a hotel room to themselves. Whatever it is, it’s making Alex almost giddy.

“Don’t fuck up the rooms,” says Brian before he lets them go off. “The usual.”

“The usual,” Alex echoes, and laces his fingers together. Rian watches him and tries not to put his hands on Alex’s.

The moment they enter their room, Rian slams the door closed and shoves Alex up against it, immediately attacking his mouth with kisses.

“Whoa,” Alex says, much like you would to an over-eager horse (never mind. No more horse metaphors), but accepts Rian’s kisses anyway, “Someone’s excited.”

“Tell me about it,” Rian responds, but it comes out in a half-growl, and _that_ gets Alex’s attention. Rian bites at his neck, peppering his throat with open-mouthed kisses, and Alex couldn’t really give a shit if he leaves marks or not. Hell, if he does, it’ll make it hotter.

Rian lifts his head to press a heavy kiss to Alex’s lips, licking at his lower lip. Alex opens his mouth in response, and Rian slips his tongue in, one hand coming up to fist Alex’s hair, and yeah, okay, there’s something about the feeling of his hair being pulled that provokes Alex into moaning. He shifts his hips slightly and all of a sudden Rian’s leg is forcing its way between Alex’s, grinding into his crotch, and _hell_ , Alex could get used to this.

Then Rian’s hips are slotting against his, leg pulled away, pushing him against the wall, and Alex makes a soft sound into Rian’s mouth. He’s not usually vocal at all, but there’s something about _Rian_ that just makes every touch a thousand times more intense.

All the fuckin’ blood in his body is rushing to his dick, and Alex feels his skinny jeans tighten. Rian must notice too, because he pulls one hand out of Alex’s hair and drops it to the button of his jeans, undoing it swiftly. Alex makes a noise and pushes against Rian’s hand needily.

“Fuck,” Rian swears, trying to pull Alex’s jeans down with one hand, “Fucking tight ass jeans.”

Alex drops his own hands to his pants, helping pull them down. He helps Rian with his own jeans, too, and why not take their shirts off while they’re at it?

The moment their shirts are on the ground, Rian kisses him again, keeping him against the wall while one hand goes to his boxers, stroking him through the thin fabric once. Alex shudders from the touch and has to resist the urge to fucking grab Rian’s hand and just shove it in his boxers already, because holy _shit_ , stop being such a fucking _tease_ —

Then Rian’s hand is on his fucking cock, and Alex loses all rational thought momentarily.

He moans, fully hard now, and thrusts into Rian’s hand, desperate for more friction. It’s almost like Rian is doing this on purpose, stroking almost _lazily_ , and it’s driving Alex fucking crazy.

“Fucking tease,” he manages, and Rian laughs.

“So you want me to stop?”

“Never,” Alex pants, rutting against Rian’s fingers, “Just— faster, please—”

Rian adjusts his grip and strokes him again, more roughly this time, and a moan falls from Alex’s kiss-swollen lips. 

Then the feeling is gone, and Rian isn't pressing him against the wall. Alex's eyes open and he glances around, noticing Rian rummaging through his bag. 

"D'you need lube?" he asks half hoarsely, "I got some in my bag, left pocket."

The look Rian gives him then is a  _I'm not going to ask why you're so prepared, but thank god_ sort of look, and Alex smiles. "Get on the bed, alright? On your back."

Who is he to say no? Alex makes his way to the bed, lying down just how Rian asked, wiggling out of his boxers for good measure. He closes his eyes and tips his head back, calling: "Rian, come over here and jerk me off, hurry up."

“I have a better idea,” Rian murmurs, and Alex hears the pop of a cap being flipped open. Then, all of a sudden, there’s something pressing at his hole, slipping in, and okay, cool, that’s Rian’s finger, stretching him easily. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees, fucking himself on Rian’s fingers as he adds a second one, scissoring them to stretch Alex even further. “Holy _fuck_!” The curse slips from his mouth the moment Rian’s fingers hit the bundle of nerves inside of him, pleasure radiating through his body.

Suddenly Rian’s fingers slide out of him, and Alex whines at the empty feeling.

“Impatient,” Rian sighs above him, and Alex is about to retort when Rian pushes in.

Holy _fuck_. Alex’s mind short-circuits momentarily, and he gasps out loud in time to Rian’s thrusts. “F-faster,” he manages, but that’s about it.

Rian is happy to comply, angling his hips so that he hits _that spot_ again, and the moment he does, Alex cries out so loud it’s a surprise the rest of the hotel doesn’t hear.

“Fuck, Rian, fuck, holy shit—” he can’t form a full sentence, not with Rian hitting that fucking spot over, and over, and _over_ again, and noise complaints be fucking damned. “I’m gonna—” The warm feeling is rising in his stomach now, growing more intense with every thrust.

“Yeah,” Rian gasps, fingers digging into Alex’s hips so tight there’ll be bruises. “Me too, fuck. Fuck, Lex, you feel so fucking _good_ —”

Alex tips his head back and moans, his hand stroking himself as Rian fucks him, the pleasure intense. His breathing is a messy staccato of moans by now, voice wrecked. Fuck, Brian won’t be happy tomorrow.

He comes with his loudest scream yet, just a cry of, “ _Rian_!” and then he’s spilling into his hand, vision going white as the pleasure pounds through him, Rian not easing up one bit.

Rian comes soon after him, quieter but still unable to hold back a moan. He pulls out of Alex and collapses onto the bed, rolling over to grab a tissue and clean them up.

Once that’s done, Alex cuddles into Rian and throws a leg over his thigh, still naked because, well, why not? They’ve got the room to themselves, don’t they?

“And to think,” Rian murmurs, “This all started because of a Twizzler.” He sighs and half-laughs, stroking Alex’s hair lazily.

Alex smiles into his chest. “And thank god it did.”


End file.
